Two of a Kind
by Smidgens
Summary: Jack Sparrow:Infamous pirate captain. Annabelle Jameson:Infamous pirate captain. The two together:Pure Mayhem.
1. A meeting, a map, and a mug of rum

I've been working on this fanfic since my last semester of 8th grade, and i'm just starting to type it up. (i've been hand writing it in a notebook so i had something to do during math). So it should come in fairly long chapters, and I'll do my best to type it up as fast as i can! Enjoy!

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The sun was setting once again as Annabelle Jameson stood staring at the horizon from the helm of the Bluebird. The wind tugged at her auburn hair as it thrashed from side to side in the breeze.

The closer she got to Tortuga, the more anxious Annabelle got to get off the ship. Love her ship or not, bread and rum was the only food they had left, and bread gets tiring after a while.

She stood at the helm of her ship, steering into the Tortuga docks. "Drop anchor! Raise the sails a little more! Come now, hurry!" she shouted to her crew, who quickly obliged her commands. She sighed. _Let's hope this visit goes better than the one to Port Royal last week,_ she thought.

While in Port Royal, she had stumbled across Commodore Norrington, who seemed to have some kind of grudge against her. Hey, just because she stole all the money out of his desk and "accidentally" set his curtains on fire doesn't mean he has to put a price on her head!

Anyway, Norrington almost had her at the gallows, but she escaped the night before her execution. Annabelle smiled as she remembered the look on ol' Norrie's face when he realized why the temperature in his chambers was unusually high.

"We're here, Captain." Louis, Annabelle's first mate, said, bringing Annabelle out of her reverie.

"Aye, you lads may go do as you please until I need you again." She said with a smile, and in a matter of minutes her crew was on their way. She went back down to her quarters to grab a few things, then , her bag slung over her shoulder, she stepped off the ship as well.

Her first stop was to a small, secluded bar, usually avoided by high-profile people. She entered the pub, sitting down at the main bar as the usual Tortuga din met her ears.

The bartender walked over to her and smiled warmly. "Hey, Annabelle. Back so soon?" She looked up and smiled back, seeing the face of an old friend.

"Hey, Charlie." She replied, "Yeah, I guess Port Royal didn't work out as I planned." she explained modestly.

Charlie chuckled. "What did you do this time?" he joked.

Annabelle replied this time in a mock defensive tone. "Hey, I didn't know the curtains were so flammable! Cut me some slack!"

This made Charlie burst out in laughter, but he still managed to ask, "So what'll it be?"

Annabelle smiled wider and replied, "Well, I've escaped the gallows for the...thirteenth time...so how 'bout a rum?"

Charlie rolled his eyes and said, "So the usual, then. Coming right up."

Annabelle leaned back in her chair and grinned mischievously."Aye."

Annabelle had just finished her second drink when she felt someone sit next to her. She looked over to see a man she knew she had never seen before, yet he seemed too familiar to be a complete stranger. She dismissed it, and continued pretending like she didn't notice him. That is, until she felt one of her maps being slowly pulled from her back pocket. She looked up suddenly, turning to him and saying sternly, "Alrigh', give it back."

The man looked up, and smiled when he realized she was talking to him. "Give what back, love?" he said innocently. Annabelle rolled her eyes and continued.

"My map. I know ye just took it!"

He looked amused for a minute, and Annabelle ignored the mischievous glint in his eye when he replied, "Well, that may be, darling, 'cause you can think what you want, but-"

He didn't get to finish his excuse, because the sound of breaking glass ripped through the air, distracting Annabelle. She whipped her head around in the direction of where the smash came from, to see Charlie sweeping up a broken bottle and laughing a bit to himself. Annabelle looked back, finding that the man was halfway out the door already.

Annabelle threw a couple shillings down on the bar and took off running after him. He must have seen her, because he started to run off as well.

Much to Annabelle's delight, he wasn't as fast as she was, and she had a head start. She was gaining on him quickly, and as soon as she got close enough she sprung forward and tackled him to the ground.

"There!" she cried triumphantly, straddling him and pulling a dagger from her boot which she pinned him to the ground with. "Now give it back!"

For some reason, the man smiled. "Why the hell are _you_ smiling?" Annabelle asked, a bit frustrated.

"I don't have yer bloody map, love." he replied, still smirking quite a bit.

"Why the hell not?"

"You're big on 'why the hell' aren't you?"

Annabelle sighed in exasperation. "Just answer the bloody question!"

"Because, darling, it's still in your pocket."

Annabelle's hand flew to her pocket and, lo and behold, the map was still there, just a little out of place. "Then...why did you run?" She inquired, making the man smile even wider.

"Because, love," he stated simply, "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!" he explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

'_So that's why he looks so familiar,'_ Annabelle thought. She had heard loads of stories about him, and wondered why she didn't recognize him.

"Um, love?" Jack asked hesitantly, after a long moment of silence. "Would ye mind getting off me now?"

Annabelle looked down to see that she still had Sparrow pinned to the ground. She pulled her dagger out and put it back in her boot, but then stopped before she got off him. "Actually," she began, her eyes shining with defiance, "I'd much rather see the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow fight his way out of this one." she finished with a smirk.

Annabelle saw Jack's smile fade a little as he studied her for a moment. For about a fraction of a second, she thought she saw a glint of admiration in his eyes, but it disappeared when, all of a sudden he sat up and flipped Annabelle under him, pinning her to the ground as she had him moments before.

"Now, that wasn't fair." Annabelle pouted stubbornly, to which Sparrow replied,

"Pirate."

Jack studied Annabelle for another minute or two before asking, "What's your name, darling?"

Annabelle sat there for a minute, contemplating wether she should tell him or not. Hell, why shouldn't she? "Captain Annabelle Jameson." Sparrow looked surprised, as if he would have never guessed a woman her age could manage to captain a ship.

"And your ship?" he asked in a disbelieving tone.

"The _Bluebird_. She's my pride and joy, and she's in the docks right now if you want proof." Annabelle shot back matter-of-factly.

Sparrow laughed. "No, love. I believe you." He got up and offered Annabelle his hand to help her up. However, she ignored his gesture and got up by herself. Jack scowled at her, and she grinned back at him, walking away.

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So, what do you think? Reviews are always appreciated! That's all for now! Toodles!

3, Tara


	2. A loss of more than shillings

Here's chapter two! Enjoy!

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Annabelle walked up the gangplank that led up to the _Black Pearl_. She had snuck up there to take a quick look after Sparrow went back to the bar. She walked around slowly, taking in all the beautiful details of the boat...ship.

"Wow..." she whispered to herself, completely taken aback by the beauty of the ship. She walked slowly over to the helm and placed her hands on it. The moment she did, she realized what a damn lucky man Sparrow was. There was a distinct feeling of freedom that positively radiated from the ship, which made Annabelle smile. That's what every ship should feel like. Freedom. Annabelle gazed out at the now starry night sky and began to sing softly "We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot-"

"Drink up, me hearties, yo ho…" came a voice from behind her, making her wheel around and instinctively pull her dagger to the throat of whoever it was. To her surprise, however, she found herself staring into the brown eyes of none other than Captain Jack Sparrow himself. "Now, love, as long as we're on _my_ ship, how 'bout no knife pointin' at the captain, savvy?" he said, holding his hands up defensively. Annabelle blinked briefly and then put her dagger away. She was going to step away front the helm when Sparrow stopped her. "Why were you aboard the _Pearl_, anyway?" he asked, to which she replied,

"I just wanted to see what it was that everyone was talking about."

Sparrow looked at Annabelle once again with that thoughtful look on his face, before snapping out of his curious trance and stepping aside to let Annabelle leave as she had intended. She nodded to Sparrow and walked down to the gangplank.

Before she could leave, Sparrow stopped her by asking, "Did ye find what you were looking for?"

Annabelle stopped walking and looked off to the dark horizon, laughing a little. "Not yet."

* * *

Annabelle stood at the helm of the _Bluebird_ once again, the bright Caribbean sun adding to her tan. She threw a rope around one of the handles on the helm to steady it and walked to the main mast, climbing to the crow's nest. She reached the top and sat down, her legs dangling over the side. She usually went up there to think, and today she had a lot on her mind. It had been a week since her little episode with Sparrow, and she hadn't forgotten what he had asked her. His question had a lot more meaning to Annabelle than he probably realized, and that she was willing to let him know about. No, she didn't think she would ever find what she was looking for; her freedom.

Being a pirate captain, most would think that Annabelle would be as free as the bird her ship was named after, but it was almost the exact opposite. As a matter of fact, it was piracy that led Annabelle to her current position. She had been raid, pillage, plunder, and otherwise pilfering her weasly black guts out when she had accidentally gotten on the very, very bad side of another captain. However, this captain wasn't as nice and laid back as Annabelle was (well, when she was feeling up to being nice, anyway). He had challenged her to a fight, and Annabelle, being much younger and less experienced with a sword back then, eventually lost.

The other captain, James St. Claire, was going to kill her right then and there, but Annabelle had managed to make a deal with him before he could.

Now, for the past five years, she would take 40 shillings, or the equivalent in treasure, every 6 months to St. Claire at their meeting point, in a secluded cove on an island calle Isla de Noche.

Annabelle's eyes widened in shock; 6 months was up in only two weeks, which meant that she had to leave for the Cove by tomorrow!

Not about to let her crew & herself die, she shouted, "Change of plans, boys! We're headed Southeast!"

* * *

The Cove at Isla de Noche was a foreboding place; it was surrounded by tall, thin palm trees that cast eerie shadows on the pale sand. Annabelle Navigated the _Bluebird _to the shore with ease, her rings reflecting the moonlight. Her crew was getting restless, and Annabelle could tell that they wanted to get this over with as much as she did. She ran a hand through her long wavy hair, the ones on the back of her neck now standing on end. Meeting up with St. Claire was one of the very few things that made her uneasy like this; Lord knew St. Claire was the only person Annabelle really ever feared. She never trusted him, but then again, she didn't trust anyone, not even herself at times. That was what Annabelle knew that all pirates had to do; trust no one, not even your own crew. Not that Annabelle had to worry about a mutiny; her crew seemed to respect her too much to even think about something like that.

Finally, the anchor lowered and a rope tied around the helm, Annabelle hurried down to her quarters to grab the bag containing the 40 shillings. When she got back to the main deck, she saw that the crew had already gone down to their quarters, like they did every time. She let out a low sigh and made her way to the shore.

The soft crunch of the sand was the only thing Annabelle could hear. That, and the pounding of her heart. She clutched the pouch tightly in her hand, as if she was afraid that it would sprout wings and fly away, leaving her with nothing. Still, she walked to the small cave she knew so well and waited. It wasn't long before she heard a rough voice behind her, making her entire body go rigid.

"Jameson!"

Annabelle turned around casually, determined not to let St. Claire see how scared she really was. At the entrance to the cave stood a tall, cruel looking man with bllue eyes and brown hair that was tied back neatly into a ponytail. Strangely, he usually brought a crewmember or two with him, but this time he was alone. Annabelle overlooked this minor detail and set her mind on giving St. Claire his money and getting the hell out of here before he could do anything.

He grinned as Annabelle stepped closer to him, reamarking sarcastically, "I'm glad to see you're living well off me plunder, James, I really am."

St. Claire smirked, and replied smugly, "Speakin' of which, you got the 40 shillings like last time?"

Annabelle nodded and tossed the money over to him, which he snatched out of the air easily with one hand. "Well, I guess I'll see ye in another 6 months, then…bye." She said nervously, beginning to swiftly exit the cave. However, a sword flew by her head, hitting the stone wall of the cave and senging a few sparks flying. Annabelle cringed and turned around to see St. Claire there with a sadistic smile on his face.

"Actually, come to think of it, we could always use an extra hand on the _Shadow_, why don't you just tag along?"

Annabelle stood, confused, before she snapped, "Id you think that I'm going to be your _slave_, James, you're sadly mistaken."

St. Claire laughed heartily, saying, "What choice do you have? You've no place to go."

Annabelle looked at him, amused, and replied "What are you talking about? I have my ship, you dumb shi-" she stopped, realization of what he had just said giving her stomach that horrible sinking feeling. She then started running as fast as her legs could carry her out towards her ship, only to see that the_ Bluebird,_ once a beautiful, glorious shit, had been reduced to a flaming chunk of polished wood.

Clapping a hand over her mouth in shock, grief hit her like a ton of bricks. _The crew! _They had all probably been asleep when St. Claire's crew showed up! _But that could only mean…_

Annabelle sunk to her knees in the sand, tears silently rolling down her cheeks. For the first time in her life, she wasn't ashamed to cry, for she had been robbed of the one thing that mattered to her.

Just then, someone harshly grabbed her by the back of the neck, forcing her up so she would stand. St. Claire whispered in Annabelle's ear, she still having her eyes closed and was still crying, "As I said, you have no choice."

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Reviews please! Thankie!

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	3. The Little Trip to Tortuga

**A/N: Yes, yes, i know this one's a bit late, i've been a tad busy, but i managed to get this typed up rather quickly. That's the beauty of having a hard copy of a huge chunk of your story! (there's a little life lesson, kiddies.) Anyway, on with the story!**

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Annabelle was scrubbing the deck for the 4th time that day, probably because St. Claire wanted to see her suffer. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction, though. She planned to do every grueling chore with pleasure, or at least feigned pleasure, just to spite the bastard.

As the water slid across the finished wood, she swore under her breath, for she had been cleaning all day and her knees were far past sore.

St. Claire strutted over to her, kicking over the bucket of water next to her in the process. "After you're done here, _Captain_," he spat, putting particular emphasis on the word 'captain', "you'll be peeling potatoes down in the galley."

Annabelle sighed. "Peelin' potatoes, James? Is that _really_ the best you can think of?" she asked dramatically, only to be grabbed harshly by her hair, and jerked so that she faced St. Claire.

"Actually," He hissed venomously, "that's all the thought I was willin' to put into it, Lit'l Anna." Annabelle cringed inwardly. He knew she hated that name. "After all, it's only _you_, so why worry so much?" And with that, Annabelle was practically thrown in the direction of the galley, cursing St. Claire in every language but English.

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Two months later, Annabelle sat in her small room, thankful St. Claire didn't make her work at night. _Probably 'cause he knows I'll jump overboard or steal a rowboat and get away._ She thought to herself. She resumed staring at the ceiling for a couple more minutes before her stomach started growling; she hadn't eaten much of anything in three days, probably because she had been kept busy with all the chores she could handle.

Ignoring her aching limbs, she crept out her door and towards the galley. Once she had soundlessly pushed open the door, she crept around nervously, grabbing some food, water and a couple bottles of rum.

As she tiptoed back to her room, she could hear crashes and drunken laughter coming from the main deck, meaning that her creeping around was unneeded. However, it also meant that someone would come back down for more rum at any moment…which was exactly what the footsteps she heard were caused by.

Quickening her pace, Annabelle practically ran towards her door, flung it open and bolted inside. She leaned against the door and started laughing quietly.

She had been nervous for nothing; even if someone did see her, they would probably be too drunk to care.

Sitting down on her small crappy bed, Annabelle uncorked one of the bottles of rum and took a long swig, savoring the burning sensation it made at the back of her throat. She sighed as she fell back onto the bed; this, like always, was going to be a long night.

* * *

Annabelle woke the next day to the sound of someone pounding on her door, and a gruff voice shouting, "Hurry up, Jameson, we're taking a li'l trip to Tortuga."

Now, normally, Annabelle would jump at the chance to visit her favorite little town, but under the circumstances, it was sort of drained of it's fun.

Annabelle rolled out of bed, stretched lightly and quickly rimmed her green eyes with kohl before throwing open her door and following St. Claire to the main deck. "Lousy bastard. Drain the joy out 'o Tortuga for me, will ya? If only I had me effects, then I'd…" she mumbled, resulting in being turned around by St. Claire. He looked at her evilly and sneered,

"That be _Captain_ Bastard, ye wench."

Annabelle, in return, only stared at him defiantly and said, "First off, I'm no wench, ye stupid blighter. Second, I will never, EVER address you as Captain, because you will never deserve such a title, for you are most likely the ugliest, stupidest thing to walk the Earth."

The next thing she knew, St. Claire's fist collided with her jaw with such force she was thrown straight to the ground. "Kind of saw that coming..." Annabelle said to herself, rubbing her face where she was sure to have a huge bruise later on. She got up, however, determined no to let it get to her.

As she followed St. Claire down the gangplank, she could hear him growl "You better hope you don't get another bout of confidence again, Jameson, or it could mean your life." She rolled her eyes.

_Man alive, this guy's got some major ego issues. Come on, you mangy cad, "it could mean your life"? That's about the most pathetic threat I've 'eard in a while_. She thought, smirking wickedly at her subconscious's defiance to the stupid asshole that walked in front of her.

She was pondering how such a stupid human being could ever manage to captain a ship when she noticed that they had come to the front doors of a pub. She rushed forward and held open the door, looking at St. Claire and smirking. "Ladies first." She quipped, before being shoved roughly aside. She could feel the blade of a sword cutting a shallow wound in her leg, but she ignored it; she knew the right buttons to push to make St. Claire just mad enough and it could prove to be used much to her advantage (and entertainment).

St. Claire pulled Annabelle into a seat, however unfortunately it was with him. She rolled her eyes in disgust at the prospect of having to sit on his lap, but managed to distract herself from the unholy spectacle by scanning the room to see who was the drunkest so far.

After a while of her little game, she began to get bored again and decided to actually start listening to the conversation between St. Claire and his crew. This only reminded her of when she used to give little talks to her own crew, who she remembered were all dead thanks to him.

"…And so we'll be able to disappear conveniently afterwards." St. Claire finished smugly. This was greeted by Annabelle clapping sarcastically and sighing,

"Very impressive, yes…blah blah blah…"

St. Claire turned to Annabelle, growling, "And I suppose you have a better plan, then Jameson?"

Annabelle turned to St. Claire, her eyes giving off a mischievous glint. "So I see we're back on a last name basis? No more "Lit'l Anna" or "wench"? James, I really am appalled!" She replied in a mock-pompous tone.

The salty ocean water residue stinging the wound on her leg as St. Claire pressed his dagger to it once again served as a rebuttal to her comment. However, she was determined not to show pain, so she simply smiled at St. Claire and patted his hand, turning back to her 'spot the drunkest' game.

* * *

A few hours later, St. Claire, Annabelle and the crew of the Shadow were making their way down the streets of Tortuga again, a couple swords and a pistol pointed inconspicuously at Annabelle's back to ensure that she didn't try to escape.

"You know, this really isn't necessary." She reasoned half-heartedly as she was pushed along the street.

"You know damn well it is, wench." St. Claire snapped, which made Annabelle chuckle lightly.

"Aye, I guess it is." She laughed, ignoring the blades being poked into her back as her sarcasm continued.

Suddenly, however, Annabelle saw something from the corner of her eye that she had almost forgotten about, given the recent circumstances. Her eyes lighted up, for she had a good idea that this could very well mean her only chance of escape.

"Sparrow!" she shouted without any further thought.

She instantly regretted it, however, for as soon as she saw that she had gotten Jack's attention briefly, she was pulled into a nearby alley, a hand clapped over her mouth.

St. Claire looked at her, his eyes looking absolutely livid. "Now, what did I tell ye about keepin' yer mouth shut, Lit'l Anna!" he growled, before once again sending a brutal punch at Annabelle's jaw. A small cry leapt from her throat, and she suddenly felt a sharp, burning pain in her abdomen as St. Claire pulled out his dagger and stabbed her exceptionally hard just below her ribcage.

"I guess ye were completely useless after all." He said after what seemed like hours. He stepped back, allowing Annabelle to fall forward a bit. He pulled his dagger out and kicked her over, walking back to his ship with his crew and leaving her for dead.

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**Gasp! What will become of our dear Captain Annabelle? Stay tuned to find out! chapter 4's coming soon to a computer near you!**

**XOX Tara**


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